It's All In Your Head
by Die Einzelganger
Summary: With time, this shall grow into a series of ficlets expanding on various headcanons of mine. I intend to write about several characters, in no particular order, as inspiration strikes. Rated the highest because my headcanons vary between sweet and disturbing. With that out of the way, enjoy!


**Originally published on my Tumblr blog.**

**Introduction copied from that post:** I present you with a writing experiment of a headcanon phobia I had entertained for Kaiba. I was once asked what sort of animal he might be afraid of, and after a while, i found myself saying "pigeons". I didn't give it much thought at the time, but a few days ago, I decided to try and see if I could do the idea justice. I guess you'll be the judge of that.

* * *

At first, everything seemed to be in order. The window was open – his secretary must have decided to freshen up the still air during his meeting with Marketing, and Kaiba quickly strode over to remedy the situation. Just one gentle push of his hand, a click of glass meeting metal, and the uncomfortable street noise of Domino was snuffed out. Kaiba allowed himself a small smile.

And then he heard a loud, tentative coo from behind him, and he froze. A pigeon had flown into his office. _A pigeon. _His joints creaked sharply as he craned his neck to look for it, and soon spotted it perching, rather lost, on top of his file cabinet, a tell-tale white trickle on its once spotless drawers.

Kaiba was terrified of pigeons. He hardly knew why, but he was. That blank look in their beady eyes, the way their small heads bobbed lazily atop their short, thick necks as they wobbled about on the pavement. How dumb they were, easy prey for cats and cars, and how aggressively they congregated when old people fed them crumbs in the parks, forcing Kaiba to tread on the grass so he wouldn't have to wade through that sea of plump little bodies, disgusted by their filth and horrified by the thought of stepping on one of them because they were too stupid to know they mustn't be underfoot, brainless, thoughtless, _soulless_ animals that they were.

The pigeon preened its wing and looked up again. It was a mixture of washed out grays and whites, the red of its eye gleaming, and Kaiba's breath sharpened as it cooed again. He should order his secretary to shoo it out. _She _let the damn thing in: _she_ would deserve to deal with it. But he couldn't bring himself to summon her. He's Seto Kaiba. He couldn't have anyone think he was a coward, because he wasn't. He just happened to be terrified of pigeons, and the rest of his afternoon was spent in shredded nerves, glancing up every minute or so at that _thing_ as he tried to busy himself with little success, flinching at the slightest move, his nostrils flaring at the smallest noise.

Not that the pigeon moved about very much. In fact, she hardly stirred at all, not even when she was beginning to starve in earnest. All she did was cock her round little head and preen her feathers, occasionally trying for a few soft coos at the only living being in this strange, alien space. The older creatures of its kind threw her small, seed-like morsels sometimes. This tall, younger creature did not.

Eventually, she spotted what she thought was a suspended puddle of water. She flapped her wings and made a flying dash for the water cooler by the wall, but pecking at the plastic did nothing. It only seemed to alarm that other creature, causing it to rise and grip the edge of its wooden nest with its claws, though it still wouldn't come near her. _Good._ She didn't want that large thing anywhere near her.

Tired with thirst and hunger, she nestled on the smooth top of the water cooler, tucking her head under her wing. In the shade of Kaiba's coat hanging on a nearby rack, she was soon fast asleep, and still Kaiba's fingers were clenched on the edges of his desk, the mere thought of trying to catch that thing and feel it squirm in his grasp unbearable.

An hour later, there was a small knock on the door. Having finished his homework and unable to think of anything else to do, Mokuba Kaiba decided to say goodbye to Roland in the control room and come over to the office, entertaining the idea of asking his Nii-sama to take him out to dinner so they could finally spend some time together.

"Hey, Nii-sama," came his voice, wrapped in a warm smile as he stepped inside. Kaiba quickly rose from his chair, but he would not budge otherwise.

"Mokuba," was all he could say, his voice strained and his eyes immediately darting to the water cooler just a few feet from the door. Mokuba followed his glance, and the next moment, the pigeon was scooped up with a small, hapless coo. She was large and her beak was pointed, but having been caught and held firmly, she stayed perfectly still. Kaiba gave an audible groan.

"Don't _touch_ that thing!" he snapped at his little brother, more sharply than he intended. Mokuba rolled his eyes, cradling the poor, frightened bird in his arms.

"How else is he supposed to get out of your office?" he replied, his tone calm and chiding as he turned to carry the pigeon towards the window. Kaiba jumped away from his chair and opened it for him, his hand trembling slightly on the edge as Mokuba approached him, sticking his short arms out into the air. His hands fluttered open and the pigeon spread her wings, plunging into the depths of the city and soaring towards the park, a small flash of white against the sunset slowly draping itself over Domino.

"You could have called me," said Mokuba, stepping back once he had lost sight of the pigeon. Kaiba locked the window for good.

"It hadn't been here very long," he replied, staring away from him. The white streaks on the drawers of his file cabinet said otherwise, but Mokuba didn't say a thing. He went to wash his hands instead, casually throwing a hint about dining out behind him as he headed to the bathroom. Kaiba gave an affirmative hum.

He brushed his hand almost violently through his hair the moment his little brother was out of sight, and when he tore his fingers away, that hand slid down to his jawline and then to his chin, his mouth pressed to his palm, and he stood there in angry silence, his posture tense and his eyes flashing furiously as he racked his mind and searched his feelings in vain to trace the origin of that embarrassing, crippling fear.

It was quite simple, really. Whenever Gozaburo Kaiba drove him to the brink of exhaustion, reducing Seto to a docile, thoughtless machine, those bleak-eyed, senseless animals reminded him of _him._


End file.
